


Grey Skies

by keraunoscopia



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Assisted Suicide, Cancer, Heavy Angst, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, M/M, Major Illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2019-02-08 02:54:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12855198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keraunoscopia/pseuds/keraunoscopia
Summary: “The light has gone out of my life,” Teddy Roosevelt penned in shaky cursive on Feb. 14, 1884. Rafael now understood.





	Grey Skies

**Author's Note:**

> It hurts, there's no happy ending. I'm sorry.

“Will you hold me?” Rafael’s breath caught in his throat, body sagging at the request. Sonny looked so small in their bed, there was nothing left to him, he’d been wasting away for months now. Maybe that should have been a sign, maybe it should have prepared Rafael for today. This day. But he wasn’t prepared, and Rafael was certain that he never really would be, even if they’d had a thousand years together. But they didn’t have a thousand years together, they’d barely hit six, ten if you counted those four years they had together before they started dating, when they’d been at each other’s throats. Or, well, when he’d been at Sonny’s throat, and Sonny had idolized him. Rafael wished it hadn’t taken him so long to pull his head out of his ass and appreciate the incredible detective. 

“Of course, mi corazon,” Rafael replied quietly, struggling to swallow the lump in his throat. He settled himself onto the bed, carefully, cautiously, trying not to jostle him too much, but Sonny winced in pain anyway. “Sorry,” he muttered softly, gathering the man into his arms. Sonny had always been slender, lean muscle clinging to his skinny frame, but now he was nothing but skin and bone, so much smaller against Rafael’s broad chest. 

“Its okay,” Sonny rasped, and he hadn’t moved much, but he was out of breath, struggling to suck air into his tired lungs. “Just want to be close to you, Rafi,” he trembled against Rafael’s chest and the DA was struck by how cold and clammy Sonny’s skin was. He had always been a source of warmth to Rafael, literally and figuratively, living up to his nickname. 

Rafael couldn’t believe they had gotten there so quickly. When Sonny had first been diagnosed, the doctors has been so optimistic, had explained the numerous treatment options, and spouted out percentages in the nineties. But then, Sonny had always been one in a million, and it was only a month and a half later when he and Sonny had sat in the doctor’s office, hand in hand, and she had explained to them that the cancer had metastasized, that it had spread to his lymph nodes, and his kidneys, his liver. She explained that his kidneys were failing, that he could try dialysis, but given the rapid progression, he’d be ineligible for a transplant, that he really only ha d a few months left at best. 

Rafael let his head fall, pressing his face into Sonny’s soft clean curls. They had decided to forego chemotherapy and radiation; they doctor had explained that it wasn’t a particularly viable option anyway, that it would only serve to reduce his quality of life in his last few weeks. Rafael didn’t want to agree, it felt too much like giving up, but Sonny had explained softly that he didn’t want to spend his last days curled around a porcelain bowl, that he wanted to be able to appreciate the moments they had left. There weren’t enough of them. Rafael had always thought he’d be the one to go first, he had eleven years on the detective, had been certain that so long as Sonny managed to say out of the line of fire, that it was Sonny who’d be saying goodbye. 

The first night at home after the new prognosis, Rafael had expected a breakdown, had expected tears and sobs, expected to have to steel himself and offer gentle reassurance, but Sonny was quiet the whole way home, and quiet as they fell into their usual routine getting ready for bed. He was calm, strangely serene. When they finally fell into the plush comfort of their bed, Sonny’s hands were all over Rafael, urgent and pleading, though no words graced his lips as he coaxed Rafael to a desperate climax. But the release was like a floodgate, and Rafael couldn’t hold back his heaving sobs, body trembling against Sonny’s hands. 

“Don’t leave me,” he had choked out between gasps for air, and Sonny had just pulled him closer, stroking his hair, pressing kisses to his temple, murmuring reassurances. 

Sonny believed in God, had made his peace even before he ended up at Church for reconciliation soon after the diagnosis. And he had gently comforted his parents and sisters when he explained the situation, explained that he was nearing his own end. 

It was two weeks later when Sonny had sat Rafael down on their couch, hands in hands. “My doctor said she’ll sign off on medical aid in dying,” he started softly, never one to mince words. He winced at Rafael’s expression, the abject horror. 

“Absolutely not, no, you can’t kill yourself,” Rafael replied quickly, definitively, but Sonny just shook his head. 

“I don’t want to hurt you Rafael, but I’m already dying. I want to go out on my own terms, with you there, loving me. I don’t want to die alone in our bed while you’re out at the grocery store, I don’t want you to have to come home one day, or wake up next to me already gone.” Rafael could tell from his tone that it really wasn’t open for discussion. 

“But,” Rafael could feel the tears threatening to spill, “you don’t know how long you have. Doctors are wrong all of the time…” The lump in his throat felt like it was threatening to choke him. 

“Rafael,” Sonny had squeezed his hands gently, reassuringly. “I’m so tired I can barely get myself up most days, and its only getting worse, I can feel it getting worse every day.” He sighed softly. “We both know it’s only a matter of time.” 

“Suicide is a sin,” Rafael almost felt ashamed for the low blow, but the desperation was overwhelming. 

Sonny shook his head again, “Rafael, I know God will understand.” 

They dropped the discussion, had fallen into bed in a tangle of heated kisses and soft touches, but Rafael could feel him disappearing under his touch, wasting away, and in the morning, reluctantly agreed. 

Sonny had promised him two weeks, two weeks to prepare himself, to finalize Sonny’s estate, to give Rafael time to adjust to the thought of a life without Sonny. Two weeks, which was how they had ended up there, Sonny cradled in his arms, breathing labored. Sonny’s hand reached up, fisting the soft fabric of Rafael’s shirt, clutching desperately. The glass of water and pill bottle was out of Rafael’s peripheral vision on the night stand, but he couldn’t deny it’s presence anymore. 

“I think its time,” Sonny murmured softly, lips ghosting across Rafael’s chest through his shirt, and Rafael shuddered. 

“A few more minutes, please,” Rafael’s breath caught with a sharp hitch, and Sonny nodded. 

“Rafael?” Sonny’s voice was barely above a whisper. 

“Yeah?” 

“I love you, so much.” 

“I love you too.”

The day of Sonny’s funeral was the first break of winter gloom, and in an appropriate fashion, the sun was out and shining, so unseasonably warm. Rafael had held it together during the church services, leaning heavily against Olivia’s shoulder, and he had kept his face composed the whole drive over to the cemetery, and had kept his voice from wavering as he said his peace, talked about what an incredible person Sonny was, how much darker the world would be without him. But then they had lowered the casket into the ground, and Rafael couldn’t hold it back anymore, couldn’t bite back the heavy, agonizing sobs. Olivia and Amanda had pulled him back to his feet, comforting with soft soothing circles across his back, but Rafael knew that was it. The light of his life had gone out, and he was left with nothing more than grey.


End file.
